


Jean Valjean's Education

by Esteliel



Category: Les Misérables (Movie 1952)
Genre: Catboys & Catgirls, M/M, Prison, Public Masturbation, Voyeurism, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:39:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esteliel/pseuds/Esteliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genflou waved him closer as soon as the guard was gone. The lashes would still happen—Jean had overheard enough for that, at least. But Genflou seemed strangely tense, his tail quivering a little as he stared at Jean.</p><p>“Jean, I have something to add to your education,” he said at last. His hand rested on Jean's knee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jean Valjean's Education

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss M (missm)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm/gifts).



“Your father was a fine man. A good companion.”

Jean watched Genflou's ears. They pointed forward, attentive, friendly even. His tail curled a little as he spoke to the guard. Jean hadn't been long in the galleys, but Genflou, a lean man with the experienced tomcat's bitten ears and an agile, rakish tail, had immediately proceeded to take him under his wings. Jean himself, a shaggy lion with matted fur and burrs that stuck to the sandy-colored ears and tails, had soon found himself grateful. The galleys were a world that baffled him, where cruelty and darkness reigned and where he had been greeted with lashes that made blood drip down his back while he clung in agony to the wall. A lion's strength was no boon in this place, for it brought no protection against the guards with their whips and chains and cudgels. Wits were the true currency here, Genflou claimed. Wits and information. And he had promised Jean an education, if Jean in turn would follow him. Loyalty, Jean thought, was also a currency. And Genflou had his, for in this place of torment and hate, Genflou's lessons were the only thing that made life bearable.

He watched. The guard was short and stocky, so much _dog_ that he didn't even need to look at his tail. Jean had a hard time reading him. Dog were always somehow off, and this one especially puzzled him. He didn't understand why Genflou was talking to him either. Ten lashes, the guard had said. Ten lashes, and for what; ten lashes because Genflou had punished Brevet, who should really know better. Brevet who owed Genflou loyalty as Jean did. Why punish Genflou for that, who kept his part of the agreement and looked out for them?

Jean shifted unhappily, his ears close against his head, wishing Genflou would have let him beat the guard instead. So what if it would have earned him a beating of his own? They'd beat him again anyway, sooner or later.

Genflou waved him closer as soon as the guard was gone. The lashes would still happen—Jean had overheard enough for that, at least. But Genflou seemed strangely tense, his tail quivering a little as he stared at Jean.

“Jean, I have something to add to your education,” he said at last. His hand rested on Jean's knee. Jean, confused, watched as it massaged the muscles of his leg. He didn't have the bulk of most lions—starvation from childhood to his time in the galleys had made him grow up starved and slim, his strength in tendons and lean muscles. But now Genflou's hand followed the outline of a long muscle up his thigh. Jean stared at it. Genflou's thumb pressed gently against the give of his flesh.

“In the mountains which were once my home,” Genflou said, and the tone of his voice drew Brevet closer as well, “exists a superstition that in the litters of wolves is sometimes born a dog. Since he would know too much of the ways of the wolves, the mother wolf destroys him instantly. But once in a while, such a dog grows to maturity. It is then my people say--let the wolves beware.”

“That Javert--born to wolves? Truly?” 

“Yes, Brevet. I knew the lieutenant's father. He was chained next to me. A real wolf. A good companion, though they starved and beat him here. You know how they are with wolves.”

Jean tried to imagine the dog he had just seen amidst a family of wolves. Impossible. Not Javert. How could a place like this have brought forth such a man?

Genflou's hand slid higher on his thigh. For a moment, it remained there, warm and secure, fingers rubbing gentle circles against his muscles.

Jean swallowed when Genflou slid another finger's breadth upward. His hand brushed against where Jean's prick had suddenly given an interested twitch, and Jean froze in horror. His breath came fast. Genflou pretended that nothing was amiss; Brevet was still grumbling about whatever had set him off a while ago, neither of them looking at where Genflou's hand was now openly massaging Jean who slowly hardened in his tattered trousers.

“Genflou.”

Jean's breath stuck in his throat when he looked up and found that the guard had returned. Javert was currently staring at him, the expression in his eyes unreadable.

Genflou's tail curled against his leg. “Is there anything else, lieutenant?” His hand still rubbed warm and certain along Jean's prick. Jean exhaled heavily, his ears low with uncertainty, his tail slowly swishing back and forth.

“You are interrupting my lesson,” Genflou pointed out. Then, after a moment, he drew away his hand. “Very well then. What is it?”

Javert did not talk but nodded towards the wall. With a sigh, Genflou stood. His tail curled, and his ears were pointed forward at Javert; almost, Jean imagined to hear him purr.

Javert held out a tiny bag. Immediately, Genflou tensed. His tail vibrated, then whipped against his leg in excitement.

“Gerard says you paid for an additional bag.”

Genflou reached out to grip the bag. Javert did not release it.

“I paid for it, lieutenant,” Genflou said, his ears tilted back now. “It's perfectly legal to buy more than our weekly ration, as long as we can afford it.”

“And I wonder how you afford all that catnip.” Javert stared at Genflou, whose tail trashed against his leg again. “You will stand at attention when speaking to me.”

Genflou straightened, his fingers still around the bag. Jean watched as they stared at each other. He kept his tail very still and his ears down. He had been ready to jump the lieutenant before, despite the threat of a beating—but that had been before Javert had looked at him like that, eyes unreadable while Genflou's hand wandered up his thigh.

At last Genflou released the bag. Javert made him wait for a few, long seconds. Then the bag exchanged hands, and Javert scoffed—but he still remained, watching as Genflou returned to where Jean and Brevet were waiting. Watching even as Genflou's wicked hand slid up his thigh again to find Jean still hard.

At last, Jean turned his head to look at Genflou—but Genflou was not watching him. Genflou was staring at Javert, and then Jean could hear a purr start rumbling in his chest.

“If you want to watch my lesson, lieutenant, that will be another bag next week.” Genflou paused, then traced along the head of Jean's prick with his fingers until Jean's tail tensed and swooshed back and forth even as he tried to swallow a moan.

“Or we can discuss other payment, once his education is complete. He'll make a good companion. Keep that in mind, lieutenant.”

Something in Javert's face shifted all of a sudden—a flash of shame, then rage, and then it was all gone, and what remained was just the same dogged determination as before. He did not deign Genflou with an answer when he turned his back on them and retreated. Jean released a breath.

"Born to wolves," Genflou said again, and if there was a deeper meaning to his words, Jean stopped wondering about it when Genflou's hands opened his trousers.


End file.
